


Baby, I'm gonna leave you

by waywardbaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eye Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 18:32:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardbaby/pseuds/waywardbaby
Summary: A story inspired by a beautiful song





	Baby, I'm gonna leave you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ain_t_bovvered](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ain_t_bovvered/gifts).



> This was a request by someone very close and special to me. Her name is Giuls and she has seen me through some very difficult times. My inspiration was the amazing song “Babe, I’m gonna leave you” by Led Zeppelin. If you haven’t heard it, you should be ashamed of yourselves.   
> You may notice that there’s no dialogue. Because, sometimes talking is overrated.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

I love living in the bunker. I love living with the Winchesters. They’re fun, clever and, boy, are they easy on the eyes. There’s always something to do when they are around. Research, training, trying to keep them from tearing the place down with their childish quarrels. But regardless how much I like having them around, I also love it when they’re away on a job. That gives me the chance to explore the bunker. There’s so much history hidden behind closed doors. So many things I haven’t been able to discover yet. And that feeling, of not knowing what I can find next excites me so much.

So, the last thing I’ve come across is the music room. The moment I opened the door and stepped into this small, cluttered room it was like I stepped back in time. The smell of old paper, that strange but at the same time familiar smell that was in the air, invaded my lungs. Paper covers that protected old records. Shelves and shelves filled with all kinds of records. Gramophone records, small 45 records and LPs. Vinyls. I have always loved vinyls. That click of the record player’s arm before it is placed on the black grooves. That screeching, static-like sound before the song starts. And then, actually listening to the song. Without all the modern means that enhance and improve sound to a point that almost everything sounds the same. No, I love listening to all those beautiful imperfections that couldn’t be dealt with back then.

I usually sit in there for hours playing one record after the other, all genres, all kinds. Seep in the music that can no longer be made. Bask in the solitude of my little fortress. I have even moved my own collection of vinyls in here. Records I inherited from my father, sounds that are etched in my heart, linked to several incidents of my life. I have to be the oldest 26 old out there. Being stuck on things like vinyls, record players and “old” music. But I could never bring myself around to listening to that annoyingly, repetitive noise that people call music nowadays.

So, once again, I’m sitting on a soft plaid blanket on the floor, my back supported by an old, wooden cabinet, thankful that I’m all alone in this huge building. Dressed in shorts, a black tank top and barefoot. It’s too hot in here to even think of more layers. A bottle of Tanqueray resting beside me, half empty already, as the first chords of an acoustic guitar are heard. I close my eyes and ready myself for what I know is coming.

“Babe…” Robert Plant’s voice is whispering and I close my eyes. I listen tentatively as the intake of his breath is audible before the next time he utters the same words, sending shivers down my spine. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna leave you…” he threatens and I raise my bottle to my lips, taking a big gulp of the delicious gin that warms my core as it travels down my throat.

The drums start pounding and my head bends low, and rests on my knee. I close my eyes and let that amazing, seductive voice cover me like a blanket of sweet, arousing emotions. But an annoying, squeaky sound snaps me back and I watch the door knob turn and Dean’s imposing figure blocking almost the entire frame. I look at him, my gaze half pissed off because he interrupted my session with Robert, half shocked because he wasn’t supposed to be here. He is leaning against the doorframe, his head a little bent, his eyes peaking upwards, taking in the contents of the room first and then its, formerly, only occupant.

 

Starting from my bare legs and moving higher up my thighs. Traveling to my breasts and then to my mouth that opens to ask why he’s back so soon. But his long, index finger moves to his lips in a shush like gesture as his eyes never leave mine.

 

“God, have they always been so green?” I wonder as all of a sudden I feel extremely warm and not from the heat in the room.

He enters, circling around me and walks over to the record player, resetting the arm to the beginning of the song and slipping on the floor, opossite me. We’re only separated by the bottle of gin that is sitting between his right thigh and my left.

He reaches over and circles his hand around the bottle, his long fingers brushing against mine. I pull my hand back and slowly rub it on my thigh, as that fleeting touch feels like fire. He raises it to his mouth and I watch mesmerized as his beautiful lips part and his wet tongue licks at the rim that disappears between them.

 

His head tips back to take a sip and that gesture exposes his neck. I have a sudden urge to sink my teeth right where I can see his pulse beating, lick along the beads of sweat that have formed there. But I don’t move. I keep looking at him as he slowly sets the bottle down to its previous spot. His hand, casually drops on my ankle and his finger just traces small circles around it. Small, infinite circles that sink my body into a pool of hot lava but at the same time send shivers down my spine.

I don’t really know if it’s the half bottle of gin circulating in my veins, the amazing music that is filling the tiny room, his touch or his eyes that never leave me, but I move a little further up so that I’m closer to him. I grab the bottle and bring it to my lips as my legs take control of the rest my body and straddle him at his hips. His taste is still there, making the transparent liquid feel sweeter as it touches my tongue.

His left hand grazes up my thigh, going all the way up until it is almost at my ass, while the right one takes the bottle from my lips and places it down on the floor.

 

His sudden movement makes small drops of gin trickle down the corner of my mouth. He follows them with his eyes and I think that the intensity of his gaze is going to make them evaporate. Suddenly, he tangles his fingers in my hair and pulls me close, stopping an inch from my lips. I hold my breath as his tongue slowly licks at the spilt liquid and slipping further down catches the last remains before they completely disappear between my breasts.

I tilt my head back and a small, breathy whimper escapes my lips when his mouth bites on my nipple over the thin cotton material of my tee. He moistens the fabric as his tongue licks and sucks at it, making it stand painfully erect. He never stops looking at me making the whole image in front of me hotter than words can describe. I grab the back of his head and pulling him up, crush my lips on his. And, God, do they taste good. If sin had a taste, it would be his.

His hand reaches under my shirt and I can sense a small smile forming at the sides of his mouth when he realizes that I’m not wearing a bra. He lifts it and slipping it over my head, takes it off and throws it somewhere in the room. And here I am, straddling a man who has been the star of many of my dreams, naked from the waist up and longing to press myself against his broad chest, feel his own heat mix with mine.

Like he is able to read my mind he takes off his own t-shirt and let’s me drink him in. I have to admit that I have never seen him naked. All those damn layers of fabric, covering up this perfection. I may just need to attack some of his clothes with a pair of scissors. I shamelessly let my eyes roam over his shoulders, then his biceps as they flex and relax, squeezing at my thighs and then a little lower to his stomach. I’m suddenly aware of a twitch under his zipper and the distinct outline of his erection. God, he must be huge. I lift my gaze to his, and a small cocky smile is right there, playing sinfully in those amazing green eyes.

 

My hand traces a line up and down his cock and it’s my turn to smile as I can see it growing even bigger and his breath coming out a little shallower. I raise myself up and I unbutton my shorts, slowly. Button by button until they’re completely undone. He follows my fingers and I see his eyes grow wide when I shimmy my hips and the tiny garment fall on the ground, pooling at my feet exposing my pantie-less pussy. Going commando was something that I did only when I was alone in the bunker. How was I supposed to know that I’d have company? The fact of the matter is that I didn’t really care right now.

He gracefully gets off the floor and slowly advances towards me forcing me to move back until my ass hits the wooden cabinet that had been supporting my back up until some minutes ago. He places his hands on either side is my waist and hoists me up on its top. He spreads my legs and kneels between them. My fingers grip the edge of the cabinet and squeeze until they’re almost white at the knuckles, readying myself for what I can only imagine will come next.

I feel his breath first. A soft whisp of air as his mouth is almost touching me. And then a sweet, wet assault as his tongue makes a slow, torturous lick along my slit, traveling all the way up until it reaches my clit. His mouth hovers over that already swollen bundle of nerves, blowing against it. My hand ungrips the side of the cupboard that’s holding me steady and tries to rub it, seeking some kind of friction. Some small salvation from the best form of torment. But his hand locks around my wrist before that reaches its destination. A small move of his head and his eyes piercing me warn me not to proceed with what I have in mind.

His lips seal on it, sucking slowly and steadily and before I even have the chance to react, I feel his middle finger slipping in my soaking wet core. Sliding in and out before adding another one. My hand locks on his head with whatever strength I manage to find and when I think that this can’t get any better, his fingers crook inside me and hit that sweet spot that makes me scream just when the final notes of the, by now, forgotten song are heard. The sound that leaves my lips is definitely not human. It’s a cry of sweet release, a prayer of his name to keep going, a plea to never stop.

He stands up and quickly discards the rest is his clothes. Jeans, boots and underwear. He is standing in front of me, completely naked, his thick cock in full attention, glistening with beads of precum that are begging to be licked clean. I look at him and an involuntary lick of my lips is his call for him to come closer.

He approaches and slips between my parted legs, his strong arms circling around my waist, pulling me so that I’m now sitting at the very edge of the wooden cabinet which is dangerously squeaking under me. He wraps his hand around his shaft and guides it to my entrance, looking straight in my eyes for the final approval that he can continue. My hand wraps over his and pushes him closer so the head is almost buried inside me.

Inch by glorious inch, he pushes until he’s sheathed in me to the hilt. He stays there, not moving, not doing anything, giving me a chance to get used to him. Taking advantage of the time I need by kissing me. Licking against my mouth, biting my lower lip, sucking ar the vein that beats down my neck. My arms go around his neck, my hips grind against his, signaling that I’m ready. He slips out and then back in, finding a steady rhythm that accelerates with every thrust of his cock inside me. He keeps my face trapped in his hands, looking straight in my eyes, straight into my soul, as he bends his knees a little, changing his angle and this time hitting me even deeper. The only thing that can be heard in the small room is the sound of our breathing as we cling onto each other, holding on for dear life.

The knot in my stomach grows tighter by the minute and I wrap my legs around his waist in an attempt to hold him closer, to have him connected to me for the longest possible amount of time. I know that I’m not going to last much longer and his own thrusts are beginning to falter, a clear indication that he too is close to his release. We are wrapped in each other, his arms around my waist, mine around his neck. Our bodies so close, so hot, so perfectly fitted together.

I clench around him, squeezing him, trapping him inside me, triggering his own undoing. I feel him cumming inside me, long and hard, not stopping until my head falls on his shoulder, a signal, that I have nothing more to give him. That I’m spent, sated. He slowly eases out of me, his cock still not completely soft, glistening with a mix of his cum and my juices, whatever is not coating him running down my parted legs.

He helps me off the cabinet and sinks on the floor, on the blanket, pulling me on his lap and engulfing me in his arms. He kisses my forehead and rests his cheek on it, his fingers tracing small circles on my back. I close my eyes and let the heat of his body cover me. Let the sweet scent of our love making stain me.

His lips brush against my ear in a soft whisper : “ I know I never, ever gonna leave you, babe!”


End file.
